A Cowboy Needs a Horse
by Dragovian Knight
Summary: Michael wakes up in the desert, to discover he's dressed as a cowboy and KITT is...a horse. Crack concept, but I'm writing it straight. Crossover with the old ABC Western Wildside, a show so obscure it has no category.


Michael picked himself up out of the desert dust, making it as far as hands and knees, shaking his head to try to clear it. The last thing he remembered was a storm - the sky now was clear - and a veritable firestorm of lightning hitting the ground perilously near the road near him and KITT.

KITT...

"Michael!"

The panicked voice was unmistakable; KITT must have been trying to get him to respond for a while. Michael pushed himself to his feet and turned toward the voice.

He rubbed his eyes. Where there ought to be a gleaming black car, there stood a gleaming black...horse.

"KITT?"

The horse rolled his eyes, hooves tapping a nervous rhythm on the hard earth as he jittered in place. "Michael, look at me!" The horse's mouth wasn't moving, but the voice was definitely emanating from that direction. "I'm...organic!"

"KITT?" Michael took a few steps sideways, kind of hoping that his car was parked behind the horse. No such luck.

"I'm a horse!"

Hearing KITT say it didn't make it any less...yeah.

"Settle down," Michael said.

"I'm a _horse_!" KITT repeated, sounding even more freaked out.

"Yeah, and I'm not getting any closer until you settle down."

Gradually, the hooves stilled; KITT lowered his head, blowing hard, eyes still rolling to show the whites. Michael warily moved closer, finally laying one palm flat on the warm, sweat-slick neck. KITT's skin twitched at his touch.

"How did this happen to me?" KITT demanded, turning his head and butting Michael in the chest with his nose.

"You got me, pal."

"I have no scanners, I have no data processors, I have these disturbingly fragile limbs, and I don't even want to talk about the limitations of my vision." KITT began to fidget again as he listed the ways in which his current form was lacking; one hoof stamped the ground perilously near Michael's foot. "I'm not supposed to be a horse, Michael!"

"And I'm not supposed to be a cowboy," Michael replied, finally taking in the worn leather chaps, the sweat-stained bandanna around his neck, and the crumpled hat lying on the ground near where he'd regained consciousness. "But at the moment, I think we're both stuck. So the best thing we can do is try to find shelter, and maybe some answers."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"KITT, come on, we can't just stay here."

"If I break one of these ridiculous legs, you'll have to shoot me."

"I'm not going to shoot you. I don't even have a gun on me. Now come on."

KITT took one exaggeratedly cautious step forward, tripped over his own hooves, and fell over.

"You okay?"

"I can't do this."

"Sure you can."

"Michael, my wheels don't need to be independently managed. I have no idea where to even begin dealing with legs."

"You were dancing all over the place when I first woke up. Just stop thinking so hard."

"That's easy for you to say. You don't have to be put down if you break a limb. You know I don't do well with contemplating my own mortality."

Michael crouched down by KITT's withers. "You can do this," he said firmly. "We can't stay out here indefinitely, and I'm not leaving you. So unless you want to start contemplating my mortality, too, you're going to calm down, get up, and we're going to figure out where the hell we are."

KITT was silent for a moment, then he sighed. "How do you suggest I get up?"

"Don't think about it. Just let your body do its thing."

"Michael, I can't simply not think about the fact that I'm a horse."

"Distract yourself. Recite Shakespeare at me or something."

There was a distraught little wicker. "Shakespeare is no longer in my data banks."

"Then think about something else."

KITT made three attempts to get up, but each one ended with his legs getting tangled together and spilling him back to the ground. He was sweating, shaking, and Michael was beginning to worry he really would manage to break a leg before he worked this out. "Take a break, pal," he said, patting the muscular shoulder. "I'm going to see if I can find any signs of civilization."

"Michael, in all seriousness, you probably should leave me." KITT's voice had lost its earlier panic, and now held a note of resignation Michael didn't like.

"Nobody's getting left."

"My primary purpose is still to ensure your safety, even if I'm singularly ill-equipped to do so at the moment. At the very least, I can insist you not endanger yourself for me."

"You can insist, and I can ignore you."

KITT was silent for a moment. "How typical," he said finally.

"And don't you forget it." A final pat, and Michael rose, finally taking a good look around.

The land around them appeared to be all flat scrub land, but Michael knew that the flatness of the desert was deceiving. To the west, the ground rose gently toward foothills in the distance; the other three directions were far more nondescript, save for a smudge of what looked like smoke to the north. Smoke could mean a town, a ranch, or at the very least, someone with a campfire and directions. He started walking.

He hadn't gone far...not as far as he'd expected to need to go...when he realized KITT was completely out of sight behind him, hidden by the deceptive slope of the land and low scrubby brush. He hesitated. KITT was not going to forgive him easily for this, but on the other hand, if it got him up and moving...

Putting as much panic into his voice as he could, he shouted, "KITT! KITT, I need you!"

He didn't quite hold his breath as he waited for the sound of hooves, but it was a near thing.

KITT at a full gallop was pretty damn striking, he had to admit.

The horse spotted him almost immediately upon coming into view, altering his direction so that he skidded to a stop mere feet away. "Michael, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Michael admitted. "I just figured that if anything was going to get you up, it'd be me yelling for help."

KITT shoved him with his nose, hard enough to stagger him. "You scared the life out of me," he scolded. "Very nearly literally."

"I'm sorry. But I do need you, and not lying on the ground looking like roadkill."

"What a charming image." KITT tossed his head, nostrils flared. "I smell smoke."

"Yeah, I noticed smoke off this way, that's why I picked it as my direction." Michael scratched under KITT's tangled mane. "So, am I forgiven?"

"I suppose so. The ground was growing very uncomfortable."

Michael resumed walking, KITT following with his muzzle pressed lightly against Michael's shoulder. Michael half thought it was to ensure he didn't suddenly just vanish, then KITT started a quiet litany of the dangers around them - apparently Shakespeare was gone, but KITT's file on Things That Can Kill, Maim, Or Otherwise Inconvenience A Horse was still fully intact - and Michael realized that KITT was scared.

Well, it couldn't be easy going from nearly invulnerable car to decidedly vulnerable horse, particularly when KITT had never had much use for animals.

"It's going to be okay," he said, reaching back to stroke KITT's jaw.

That was a mistake; the next thing he knew, KITT was leaning his chin on Michael's shoulder, and rubbing. Who knew horses had such heavy heads? Or such bony chins, for that matter?

"Hey, I only have two legs to balance on, here," Michael scolded gently. "Enough with trying to knock me over, huh?"

"Sorry, Michael." The head withdrew, and the light touch on his back resumed.

"It's okay." He was going to be really glad when KITT was back to normal, though.

Eventually, KITT settled enough to be willing to give up contact - Michael was pretty sure there was horse snot all down the back of his shirt by that time, since the dust periodically made them both sneeze - and look around, ears flicking back and forth. Despite his earlier recitation about the dangers of the local fauna, he seemed reasonably calm about the various noises that Michael couldn't identify.

Which was good, because Michael didn't think he had it in him to chase down a spooked horse.

They had reached a road - a worn path between the brush, really - by mid-morning. Michael hoped it led somewhere soon, because he was thirsty, and KITT was beginning to droop with exhaustion, his coat more muddy tan with than black from the sweat and dust. Even Michael could smell the smoke at this point, though, and there was a smudge up ahead that looked like trees.

"I smell water," KITT announced, at the point where Michael was willing to call a halt until the sun was lower in the sky. He stretched his head forward, scrambling ahead of Michael in his eagerness. "Hurry."

"Hang on, KITT, I'm coming as fast as I can."

"You could ride me, I suppose."

"You sure you're up to it?"

KITT gave him a dirty look. "Michael, please, this is humiliating enough."

Okay, he wasn't going to argue if KITT had decided to get over his obsession with breaking a leg. Michael looked around until he found a good sized rock to mount from, then called KITT over.

Riding bareback, he quickly discovered, sucked, even on a horse as amazing as KITT.


End file.
